Clearing my throat, I read it aloud, using my mopey Rick voice. “I’m sorry,” I mocked. “I can’t do this anymore. And you’re right, we both know this isn’t going to work. I should’ve said this to your face, but I can’t. I fucked up, I destroyed your trust, I wasn’t there for you. I can’t take it back, so I signed the papers. Be well.”
Zara raised a brow. “Be well? Be well!”
A hard lump formed in my throat. “I know. I wanted to go to his office and bop him on the head and,”—my voice cracked—“and throw all his sharp pencils at him.”
“This nigga,” she muttered in disbelief. “You wouldn’t even know he was the same man who bought you a car for your engagement gift.”
“I sold that shit yesterday,” I admitted.
“Damn, boo.”
“I don’t want any reminders.” I walked out of the closet. “I need more wine.” She followed me through the house to the kitchen.Shit, I left my glass upstairs. Fuck it. I drank from the bottle. “I’m thinking about moving.”
I felt her next to me. “Well, I hope so. The house sold.”
“Out of the state.” I shot her a sideways glance. “There’s nothing here for me anymore. You’re in Atlanta. Mom is in Paris. You’re living your best lives hundreds of miles away from me. And I’m stuck.”
I never thought I would leave Cali. I never wanted to. But it didn’t feel like home anymore. Every time I went out to dinner, jogged on the beach, or walked in my neighborhood, it was a bleak reminder that I was alone.
“Rissa, you have to do what’s best for you. If that means moving, I’ll help you pack. I’ll drive your ass across the country just like you did for me.”
A smile tugged at my lips as visions of our long ass drive from LA to ATL popped into my mind. “Even if I don’t help you drive?”
She rolled her eyes. “I already know you’re not. And I wouldn’t want you to because you can’t drive.”
I gaped. “What? I drive.”
“To the corner market. And only because you don’t want to lug the groceries home on foot.”
“I drive to work,” I argued.
“Because you have a company car and it would look bad if you didn’t.”
“Whatever,” I grumbled. “You love to point out my flaws.”
She shrugged. “That’s what little sisters do.”
“I know you fuckin’ lying.” My parents decided to have back-to-back babies. Me, Zara, and Zeke, all in short order. “You’re only thirteen months younger than me.”
“Still younger, though. That’s what Zeke always told me.”
My stomach sank. It had been years since my brother died and I still missed him every single day. “I wonder what he would say to me right now.”
“I already know. He would tell you to stop obsessing about Rick and pull yourself together.”
The thought of my brother giving me the business for crying over any nigga made me smile. “You’re right. He didn’t believe in giving that type of energy to another person.”
“Maybe I should channel him to get you through this.”
“Don’t try it,” I warned. “I need you to be my sister.”
“I’m always that.”
Sighing, I asked, “When did you get here?”
She glanced at her watch. “About two hours ago.”
“Where are the kids?”
